


Helpful hand

by Cirilla9



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Cirilla9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As requested: an unexpected discovery is made at an inopportune moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpful hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laSamtyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laSamtyr/gifts).



> Special thanks to Nuinzilien for beta work!

Enormous wings cut through the air, feathers waving due to the strong winds that caused Fingon’s eyes to water and forced too much air into his lungs. He sat upon Thorondor’s neck, clasping him tightly with his knees like he was usually doing on horseback. He hoped he wouldn’t fall. Both of his hands were occupied by holding the thin shaking body of his friend. He glanced down at Maedhros, wondering if the elf was conscious. Only then did he notice his friend was trying to say something.

“What?! I am sorry but I cannot hear thee over the wind!” Fingon leaned down, bringing his ear closer to Maedhros mouths.

“Can we go down?” Maedhros’ voice was rasp, sounded like he hadn’t used it in a long time.

“Down?” Was he thinking he still hung from Thangorodrim?

The red-haired elf’s words were swept away by the wind yet again but Fingon thought he had caught something about “scared”.

“Do not be afraid,” he embraced his friend tighter, giving him what little comfort he could with the presence of another warm body next to his. “Thou are safe now. I rescued thee.”

When he looked at Maedhros face it seemed almost like his friend smiled.

“That is not it!” he said. “I mean I am afraid of heights!”

“Oh,” said Fingon. He looked past Thorondor’s wing, down to the ground far below. The area didn’t seem desert anymore, they should have passed Anfauglith by now… “Master eagle!?” he called out as loud as he could manage while trying to make it sound polite at the same time.

“Yes?” came the voice deep as thunder.

“I am very grateful for the ride and all troubles you must have endured to take us from the enemy’s territory but could you land now?”

The so far tranquil movements of the eagle seemed to falter somehow, the world around them shuddering a little.

“Thou dare to refuse Master-of-All-Birds’ help?” Fingon could feel vibration in eagle’s chest as it thundered its words.

“No, I meant-“ Fingon tried to protest but Thorondor wouldn’t allow him to utter another word.

“Hast thou forget I am not a mere horse you can ride whenever and wherever thou want? I am a servant of Manwe himself! If I transport someone it is always an exception.” The voice was quiet for a moment, during which Fingon wondered how many exceptions it takes to make it a rule, then “alright, I will do as thee ask of me. But remember this, ungrateful Noldo, this is the last time I carry thee on my back.”

* * *

Fingon adjusted the last piece of the wood in the fire, wondering what he would have to do the next day. Maybe there was a village somewhere nearby. It would be good to get a horse. Ideally, one with a wagon. He wondered again if calling off the eagle hadn't been a mistake but again he justified it as being for the welfare of Maitimo. Besides, he assumed, Manwe wouldn't feel any more offended by showing lack of manner toward his pet than he was by the events in Alqualonde.

Maedhros laid nearly covered by Fingon’s coat. The cloth on his right arm that made a makeshift bandage was spotted red at the end. Fingon wondered briefly if he shouldn’t change the dressing but the stain wasn’t growing and he feared he would only make it worse, causing more loss of blood. He felt his friend’s eyes upon him.

“Thou should get some sleep.” Fingon said quietly. “To regain thy strength faster.”

“Will thou…” Maedhros seemed to hesitate for a moment. Or maybe he was just unaccustomed to speaking after such a long time in solitude. “Sing for me?”

Fingon looked into a pale, wearied face, features shadowed with fear, even once bright red hair seemed duller. But in his eyes there was still the light of Aman. And they were staring at him brightly, reminding him of more peaceful times.

“Of course.”

And so Fingon sang to him a lullaby, one that he had heard Maglor sing to little Celebrimbor in Valinor, when he was a frequent guest in Maedhros’ halls. His voice became gradually quieter until he only hummed the melody, coming to a silence when he noticed Maedhros had fallen asleep.

 Fingon seated himself cross-legged with his back to the fire with a decision to keep the watch through the night.

* * *

He woke up to some rustling sounds. They stopped the moment he sprang up. For a moment he was confused, before his sleep-clouded mind caught up with reality.

“Maedhros?”

Only silence answered him.

Fingon eyed his friend. He laid on his side, too rigid to be asleep. The fire had died out, only a smoldering pile of ashes remained.

“What are thou doing?” Fingon asked with a little smile already building some theory as to the answer.

“Nothing.”

Fingon smiled broader and moved closer to Maedhros back. He slipped under the coat, embracing his friend from behind, feeling him tense under his touch.

“Now what are thou doing?!” Maedhros’ voice sounded more like what Fingon remembered from Aman.

“Keeping thee warm” he murmured, moving his hands under the clothes to touch Maedhros' chest. “The fire went out, thou must be cold,” he reasoned, tracing down Maedhros’ left arm with his fingers.

Maedhros shifted his hand, trying to hide what he was doing but Fingon had already figured it out. He let go of Maitimo’s forearm and reached to where the hand was before, between his friend’s legs. Maedhros’ penis was hard.

“I…” Fingon could almost heard the blush in his voice “It is just… It has been so long since..”

“Shhh. Let me” Fingon said. “It must be tough with only thy left hand remaining.  I will help thee.”

Fingon grasped Maedhros’ member tentatively. Maitimo didn’t protest but his body tensed more. Fingon moved his hand up and down the hot length. The elf in his arms gasped and curled in on himself. Encouraged, Fingon tightened his hold and moved his hand more confidently. Maedhros' breathing grew louder. After few more strokes he grabbed Fingon’s other hand and pressed it more firmly to his chest. Fingon, never ceasing his massage of Maedhros’ shaft, lifted his head as far as he could without changing his position to peek at Maitimo’s face. The sunken cheeks were flushed, eyes closed, lips parted. Fingon felt his own body becoming aroused.

Maedhros' hips moved as he started to thrust forward into Fingon’s hand, his gasps changing into moans, Fingon was hard himself. He felt hold on his hand tighten almost painfully, Maedhros’ body going still as his penis jerked in Fingon’s hand. Maedhros came with a feeble scream.

* * *

The next time he woke, it was to a sound of barking and he cursed himself inwardly for falling asleep again. Maedhros, still in his arms, moved as well. They were still tangled beneath Fingon’s  coat.

“Werewolves do not bark, right?” he ascertained.

Before Maedhros could answer, a shaggy beast the size of a horse jumped into their clearing from the forest. It barked again. Fingon thought it sounded like a dog greeting his long unseen master.

From the forest came whistling and calls of “Huan?! Where are thou?! Come back!”

The voices were coming closer. Fingon untangled himself from Maedhros and sat up. He saw Maedhros smile widely as he rose also. There was mirth in his eyes as he looked in the direction of the calls.

“Huan, doggy, what hast thou found?” From the trees emerged an fair-haired elf. Fingon recognized his cousin. Celegorm came to a halt when he saw them, standing there on the verge of the clearing frozen immobile and staring at Maedhros like he saw a ghost.

“Can thou not silence thy dog?!” A second elf appeared in the clearing, black-haired and angry. Then he saw them as well. “Maitimo?”

“Welcome, Curufinwe,” Maitimo said, wrapping Fingon’s coat around himself. His clothes were in tatters and what they had done last night hadn’t made him any more clothed.

“Tyelkormo,” he said to Celegorm, who still stood there motionless, disbelief fighting with hope on his face.

“Are thou alive? Are thou really alive, brother?” Curufin exclaimed and came to Maedhros embracing him. Huan joined them wagging his tail and licking Maedhros on the face.

“Huan, stop” Celegorm laughed, moved to push his dog away, sitting himself next to his brother.

Fingon watched the three – four – of them, standing a little to the side.

“Valar! What happened to your hand?” shouted Celegorm as a coat shifted, revealing his bandaged stump.

“Who did that?” shouted Curufin already on his feet and reaching for the sword, eyes on Fingon “Was it thou? Tell me!”

“Brother, peace!” called Maedhros, rising up. Celegorm moved to help him. “It was necessary to free me. Fingon saved my life and thou ought to be grateful to him!”

Curufin let go of his sword “thou are right. Thank you, cousin, for saving Maitimo.” He didn’t sound any calmer and to Fingon his gaze didn’t seem any less murderous.

“A hand is not too big price for a life,” continued Maedhros, clearly accustomed to his brother’s tantrums. “I can live without it. Besides,” he added, looking Fingon straight in the eyes, “Findekano will always lend me a helpful hand if I need one.”

Fingon felt the heat on his cheeks as a blush covered them.


End file.
